Chuck vs The Ins and Outs
by somedeepmystery
Summary: This is a collection of drabbles and one shots written for various prompts. Various characters but Chuck/Sarah will always be in mind. This time on Ins and Outs - Morgan comes home to a situation he feels ill equipped to handle. In the end, he gets his reward. Morgan/Alex
1. Sky

Note: This was written for a prompt table posted on my livejournal.

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Sky

Chuck, Sarah (Chuck/Sarah)

Prompt: Sky

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_That __is__ a __lot __of __sky__._

That was the first thing that ran through his mind has he came to, his eyes opening to a never ending expanse of blue.

The second thing? _Oh __crap_, because he was currently falling through that seemingly endless sky. The wind rushing past him tore as his hair and clothes and roared in his ears like rushing water. His eyes grew wide as full realization dawned. He was falling through the sky without a parachute. The sky was empty above him, no plane in sight.

He had no idea how long he had been falling or how close the ground was. He didn't want to know. As his panic peaked, the familiar tingle started at the front of his brain and he flashed, the intersect telling him to turn over and into Box Man position but he ignored it. Did slowing down by a few milliseconds matter when you had no hope of surviving the landing anyway? He had absolutely no desire to see the end coming either.

He forced himself to take deep breaths, to try and slow his heart rate, as everything he had to live for flooded his mind. His sister - this was going to hurt her a lot, after she was finished being pissed at him for getting himself into this situation. His niece, who was still so young and just really starting to develop a personality, which he loved, his own daughter who was still too young to even remember him. He'd be gone and she would have nothing but pictures and stories… His wife…

He squeezed his eyes shut. _Sarah_. She was going to be so mad. He just hoped she didn't do anything stupid trying to avenge him.

He opened his eyes and looked at the expanse of vibrant blue. It wasn't a bad view to go out on at least. Endless blue broken up only occasionally by wisps of white cirrus clouds and an odd black dot… Wait, what was that black thing anyway? Not a dot because it was getting bigger.

His eyes widened in surprise as the object speeding toward him began to take on more definition. Sarah, head down, arms and legs pulled in tight, her blonde hair whipping back from her face, came into clear focus only seconds before she collided with him. Her arms and legs wrapped tightly around his torso and they spun through the air, end over end until they eventually slowed back into a steady, flat free-fall.

"Sarah, oh god, oh my god…" his voice was whipped away by the wind before it could even reach her ears but it didn't stop his bout of relieved rambling. When she pulled back enough for him to see her face he watched her study him for a moment with stone faced seriousness. Then she was fumbling one handed to slip something into his ear. An ear piece. He reached up to help.

"Hey," she said once he was properly hooked up. "Bet you're glad to see me." She smiled then, though he could see it was fragile around the edges.

"So glad, so so so very very glad," he said, smiling widely. Then his smile slid right off his face. "Please tell me you're wearing a 'chute."

She rolled her eyes and kissed him. "What, you think I'd throw myself out of a plane just so I wouldn't have to live without you?" she demanded. His mouth quirked up in half a smile and they shared a long knowing look. Finally, Sarah tightened her legs around him, a move that even under these circumstances he found very distracting, and said, "Hold on." He followed orders, wrapping his arms tightly about her body as she loosed the parachute and they were yanked into a much slower descent.

"Where's Casey?" Chuck asked suddenly, after a few moments of silent prayers of gratitude. He looked up at the seemingly empty sky above them.

"Flying the plane."

"Flying the… Casey?" He looked at her with worry. "Are we sure that's a good idea? Remember what happened last time."

Sarah shrugged. "I'm sure that was just a fluke." She looked into his eyes and smirked.

"Suddenly, it's not us reaching the ground safely that I'm worried about," he remarked and she laughed.

"Have I told you yet today that I love you?" she asked.

Chuck blinked before allowing himself a quick study of her perfect face. "Yes, you did," he answered, "But a fella never gets tired of hearing it. I love you too."

This time when she smiled there was nothing fragile about it.


	2. Wisdom in Whiskey

Notes: This was written for prompt table 3 from promptcentral on livejournal.

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Wisdom in Whiskey

Casey, Chuck (Chuck/Sarah)

Prompt: Wisdom

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Chuck really hated to leave Sarah alone. After everything that had happened, he didn't want to let her out of his sight, but he managed to make it downstairs to the hotel bar, as ordered, with only a few stops and starts. He paused at the entrance, his eyes scanning the dim smoky interior for more than the familiar, hulking figure at the bar then he moved through the dimly lit room and took a seat next to Casey. Before he'd even fully settled on the stool the other man was pushing a glass of amber liquid toward him. Chuck wrapped his hand around it. Wordlessly, he lifted the drink to his lips and took a sip, feeling the whiskey burn down his throat and pool warm in his stomach.

"How's Walker?" Casey asked, after several moments.

Chuck tore a corner off his napkin and twisted it with restless fingers. "Still unconscious," he said, worry coloring his tone. "But her breathing is regular and her pulse is steady."

Casey's response was a grunt Chuck recognized as an affirmation that this was a good sign. "Based on the tranqs I took off the Ring Agents, that sounds about right. She'll probably be out till late this morning, early afternoon." Chuck merely nodded and took another drink. He could see Casey watching him out of the corner of his eye and the words he wanted to say clogged in his throat. He swallowed, trying to force out something, anything that would help relieve the weight pressing on his chest or the ugly twisting in the pit of his stomach. He closed his eyes but snapped them back open immediately when all he could see was Shaw, his body jerking as the bullets impacted his chest.

After another stretch of silence Casey spoke again, "You did good, Bartowski." His voice was sincere, his gaze focused on the bottles lined up on the wall across from them. Chuck turned and looked at him, frowning deeply.

"_What_?" he muttered.

"Four shots, center mass," Casey said simply. "It was good shooting. Hell, I'm almost proud."

"Casey," Chuck turned away, his stomach twisting again. For a moment he wasn't sure the whiskey was going to stay down.

"You feel like shit because you took another man's life. Good." Chuck's head snapped back around to find Casey looking back at him intently. "Don't ever take it lightly, but you did what had to be done and don't forget it. Walker, you, hell, maybe even me, we'd all be dead right now if you hadn't."

Chuck just stared, frowning into the middle distance, Casey's words repeating in his mind. He picked up his glass and shot back the rest of his drink, squinting against the burn.

"_She_ is going to understand that too," Casey added and Chuck focused on him again, the worry evident in his dark eyes.

Casey pushed another glass of whiskey toward him and Chuck looked at it in surprise. "Now, you've got until you finish this drink to wallow, then you're done. Put it behind you, got me?"

Chuck nodded before he spoke. "Yeah... yeah."

"Alright, I've gotta head back, get the Director outta here before the frogs figure out what's actually going on." It was obvious by his smile that he really liked the idea of pulling one over on the French. "Take care of our girl."

Chuck's smirk was a shadow of its usual self. "I won't tell her you said that."

"Good," Casey said before slipping some money onto the bar and walking away. Chuck didn't watch him leave, but instead focused his attention on the full glass of whiskey. After a long moment he glanced upward, as if somehow he could see through the floors to his room where Sarah lay unconscious and unaware. He pushed the whiskey away and stood slowly to his feet.

He didn't need another drink, he just needed Sarah.


	3. A Legacy of Grandmotherly Insight

I would like to take a quick moment to say thank you to Indigogold and Angus MacNab for giving these a read through for me. Thank you guys!

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Prompt 31 : Knitting

**A Legacy of Grandmotherly Insight**

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"What are you doing?" Chuck asked, his head tilting to the side as he came to a stop near the edge of his sister's living room. He had a plate full of snacks and two glasses of wine balanced in his hands and he bent to set them down on the coffee table.

His mother sighed with exasperation and let her hands fall into her lap. "What the hell does it look like I'm doing, Chuck?"

"Honestly?" Chuck started, sitting down in the chair across from her and giving her his smart ass grin. "I'm not sure… torturing a small, colorful sheep perhaps?"

"You think you're funny, but you're not," was her response and she picked up her project and started again, though by now even she knew it was useless.

"I'm sorry mom, but in all this time I just never imagined you as the type."

"What type is that?" she demanded, clearly affronted. "I know I was a lousy and completely absent mother and I just… really want to make up for it in the grandmother department."

"Surely there must be other ways," he said looking at the mass in her lap that trailed misshapenly to the floor. "Ways more suited to your particular… well, just other ways. Have you tried baking?"

She humphed.

"What exactly are you making anyway?"

"A blanket," she said and she seemed a little sad he hadn't realized that on his own.

"Oh, I thought maybe it was a sweater."

She glanced up at him and then held it up, looking it over. "Oh, does it look like a sweater?" she asked. Maybe she could adjust her plan…

"No," Chuck said, shaking his head, then he burst out laughing.

Mary Bartowski glared at her only son, stood to her feet and tossed the entire mass at his head. He managed to block the needles from doing any damage but got tangled in the strands of yarn nonetheless. _Note to self_, he thought, _intersect useless against attack by yarn_. "Where are you going?" he asked as he tried to disengage himself from the would-be blanket.

"I'm going to go work on my _other_ project" she said looking back at him, her smile as cheeky as any of his had ever been.

"And what is that exactly?" Chuck asked, nervous.

"An illustrated children's guide on the proper handling and disposal of live explosives." She blinked her big blue eyes at him and left the room.

Chuck sat, a little stunned for a moment, then looked down at the knitted abomination in his hands. "I'm sorry, Mom. I was just teasing, I think it's a perfectly fine sweater – blanket! I meant blanket. It's gonna be great. The colors are…" he looked at them helplessly, at a loss to describe the puce and greenish-brown combination. Luckily, he was saved from having to continue by the arrival of his wife and child.

"What are you going on about?" Sarah asked, plopping his daughter in his lap. He took hold of the baby by the waist and smiled at her automatically, nuzzling her tiny button nose. She immediately started smacking his face with her chubby hands.

"My mother," he said after enjoying his daughter for a moment, "Is making a children's book about bombs."

Sarah laughed and flopped back in her chair. "Really?"

"I don't know… I insulted her knitting, so this could just be revenge." He bounced Charlotte, gently on his knees. "Maybe I should stop her."

"I wouldn't," Sarah said, holding a colorful rattle toward her daughter and shaking it gently. "This family? They'll probably need it."

Chuck just couldn't argue with that.


	4. To Catch a Nerd

_Big thanks to Angus MacNab, without whom there would more mistakes and less fight! Written for Prompt 19: Jump - A prequel to Sky that surprised me.  
_

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**To Catch a Husband  
**

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o

They'd been in the air for a while now and Sarah was really starting to worry about Chuck. He was on the floor just a few feet from her, still unconscious. They hadn't even bothered to tie him up, which worried her even more. _What had they given him?_ The large door across from her remained open and her hair whipped about her face, stinging occasionally across her cheeks as she tried to subtly keep track of their captors.

She looked around carefully, working to keep her face neutral with hints of concern for Chuck – which she didn't have to feign and which they expected – as she worked her small blade against the ropes that bound her wrists. It had taken her far too long to work the tiny knife out of the cuff of her jacket and she inwardly cursed that she'd allowed herself to become rusty.

Then she remembered the reason she was rusty and closed her eyes as her daughter's sweet baby face came to mind. Her chubby little hand raised as she sat on Ellie's hip waving good bye to them. She never should have left her. It was supposed to be a quick easy job, just a look around that was all - nothing even remotely dangerous. Instead, it had been an ambush.

_No time for regrets_, she thought, _just focus on getting her mommy and daddy back safe_.

Casey was next to her, head down, stoic, concentrating. She knew he was working his bonds but she doubted breaking his thumbs would help this time. She felt a small give at her wrists and her heart gave a little kick but she showed no outward expression.

There were two burly guys standing nearby, engaged in a conversation she would never be able to hear over the rush of the wind. She watched as one of them looked back at Chuck, still an unmoving heap on the floor his jacket snapping in the wind. _Is he breathing?_

Another man stepped out of the cockpit and looked them over, his eyes cold. One of the guards looked over and hollered, "What should we do with this one?" He jabbed a thumb toward Chuck and the entirety of Sarah's attention became focused on them. Beside her she felt Casey's body tense for the first time.

"He's probably not going to wake up," the man said, dismissively, as if he were simply rejecting a cup of coffee. "Toss him out, two of them are enough."

Her head snapped up and she looked directly at them for the first time since they'd been bound to the plane. "You do that and I will kill you," she shouted, her voice like ice. They looked over at her and the largest of the three men laughed. Their leader didn't even look at her but simply turned and went back to the front of the plane.

Sarah increased her pace with the knife, stabbing herself more than once, as she watched them maneuver toward her husband. They were large guys but Chuck was hardly insubstantial and it took them a few, lean moments to finagle him into position. _Stall them!_

"Last chance," Sarah called. Her voice was still hard, professional, only someone who knew her well would've heard the desperation and fear leaking through. "Put him down – _safe_ – or you die."

The shorter of the two men turned and looked her directly in the eye; then, as one, they tossed Chuck out the door and she watched him disappear from sight.

Her heart stopped, everything in her went cold, and for the briefest of moments she was completely incapacitated. Then her hands started moving again as a countdown began in her head.

A moment later the ropes around her wrists gave way. The two men were still standing in front of the door, directly across from her, one of them looking out while he pantomimed Chuck's free-fall and inevitable collision with the ground. She shook her hands free of the rope so it couldn't hinder her momentum and then like a snake, she struck.

Her arms shot up and grabbed the bar above her head and she pulled her body up with a scream of rage. Both guards turned toward her in surprise, the sorter of the two having just enough time to register what was coming before Sarah planted her feet firmly in his chest. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet and out the open door.

"What the hell?" the second guard yelled and Sarah thought_, he got off easy_, as she struck him in the nose with the heel of her hand. As his hands came up to grab his face she kneed him hard in the groin doubling him over. Then she sank her fingers into his hair, taking hold as she slammed her knee into his face with a cry of anger and satisfaction. She shoved as she released him and he staggered back, teetered for a moment on the edge before losing his balance, eyes open in shock as he too disappeared from view.

She didn't have time to enjoy the look on his face as he realized his fate; instead she yanked a parachute off the wall, hoped it had been packed properly, and started strapping herself into it.

"Where do you think you're going?" Casey demanded, his first words since they'd been captured.

Sarah hurried over, grabbed her blade from where it had fallen and pressed it into his hand. "I'm gonna go get Chuck. You take care of things here." She jerked her head toward the cockpit and then he watched as she threw herself out of the plane.


	5. His Steady Girl

A/N: I've been holding onto this in case it wanted to become something a little bit longer, but it seems to want to stay as is. It's not my usual style. For prompt 66: President

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She straightened his tie.

"Sarah, I can't do this."

"Yes, you can. You'll be fine."

"I'm going to trip over my own feet."

"No, you won't."

"I'm going to say something stupid."

"You never say anything _stupid_."

"Just excessively nerdy. What are the chances POTUS watches Doctor Who, do you think?"

"Which one was that again?"

"Oh my God, really? Sarah, we just… and you're teasing me."

"Mmm. If he hasn't seen it you can introduce him to it."

"I'm gonna be sick."

"Chuck…"

"First, I'll trip, then I'll say something ridiculous and then I'll throw up. Sarah, I'm going to throw up on the President."

"Chuck, sweetheart, you're spiraling. Just breathe."

"You know, you only call me Sweetheart when you either, want me to do things your way or you're trying to let me down easy."

"That's not true… Okay, so I'm not really a terms of endearment type but I just really need you to calm down."

"You're nervous!"

"No! I am _not_ nervous. I don't need to be nervous and neither do you, because everything is going to be fine. _You_ are going to be charming and funny and the President is going to love you, just like I do."

"Well… hopefully not _just_ like you do…"

"Very funny, and no… he'd better not."

And then she kissed him.


	6. A Piece That Fits

Prompt 37: Practice

Much thanks to **MacNab**, my fantastic beta. :)

Chuck/Sarah

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xXx

Morning light filtered in through the curtains, caressing her skin with warmth and calling her toward wakefulness. She wanted nothing of it and instead snuggled down into the heat of the body beneath hers. She inhaled his scent and a decadent smile lit upon her face. She let her hand slide across his chest, toying gently with the crisp hair before coming to rest on his shoulder. Her leg slid gently over his until it was slung across his hips, then she tucked her face into the crook of his neck and started to kiss him.

"Mmm," he mumbled, his hand sliding up to caress her back. He turned his head toward her, kissing her temple and she lifted her face so she could kiss him properly. When she pulled back, he smiled up at her, his eyes barely open. "My favorite way to wake up in the morning."

"Not coffee and a pop tart?" she asked playfully.

He chuckled, his voice still rough with sleep. He shook his head. "Hm-mm, definitely you," he said, lifting himself up and turning them so she was on her back and he was above her. She sighed as he kissed her neck and across her shoulder.

She closed her eyes savoring the feel of his lips on her skin, sliding her hands up over his shoulders and into his hair. "Chuck?" she asked softly.

"Mmm?" was his response, not bothering to raise his head from his task.

"Were we trying to have a baby?"

He froze for a moment and then pulled back quickly to look at her. She could feel him start to pull away, so she hooked a leg around his thigh and kept her arms around him. "Why?" he asked, relaxing a little and smiling when she refused to let him go. "Did you remember something?"

"No, I… I found a very large box of pregnancy tests under the sink in the bathroom." She looked at him with wide eyes. "_Very large_."

He chuckled, his hand running down her side to her hip and back up. "We, uh… There was a time when we thought we were pregnant, and we didn't want to alert anyone in the store so we went to the Large Mart. That was the smallest box they had." She laughed with him, her fingers toying with his hair. "But we were talking about it," he said.

"We were trying?" she asked. She could feel him growing nervous again at the question but, surprisingly, she didn't feel the least bit scared by the idea. Which was sometimes the closest she got to remembering. Just a feeling that something fit, even if she didn't know why.

"No, not exactly. We hadn't quite taken that step because things with our spy life weren't quite settled yet," he said, then he laughed softly.

"What? What's funny."

"Once upon a time you called it —"

"Practice…" she finished with him and his entire face lit up. She smiled. "I remember that." He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. For a moment, sadness mixed with the joy in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She leaned up and kissed him, a soft sweet kiss that lingered. When she let her head fall back to her pillow she smiled playfully. "I think we should get back to it then."

He tipped his head to the side, confused. She grinned knowing she'd lost him. "Get back to what?" he asked.

"Practicing," she answered, pulling him down and kissing him in earnest.


	7. A Merry Christmas

_Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays! I dedicate this little bit of fluff to **Angus MacNab**. Prompt:72 - Card. _

_PS - Charade may not be updated on Monday. Things are busy here so, I may not have a chance to go through it before then and get it ready. :) But it won't be delayed long, I promise._

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**Pairing:** Chuck/Sarah

xXx

He hadn't said anything in a while and it was really starting to worry her. An hour ago he'd been rambling and she'd known he was really worried. Now she kept looking back to make sure he was still following her. Pausing to pull out her GPS and affirm their location, she did just that, turning at the waist and taking in Chuck's hunched figure.

Ice crystals drifted in the air between them, sparkling in the waning sunlight, floating on the sharp breeze that loosed them from the weighted branches of the trees. Chuck had his head down, watching his feet as he walked, pulling one leg from the knee deep snow and placing it in front of the other. It was exhausting work but he was farther behind her than she had expected.

Reaching down, she scooped up a handful of the powdery snow near her hip and lobbed it at him, hitting him square in the chest. He stopped and his head came up sharply. She couldn't see any part of his face, between the balaclava and the goggles he was completely covered, but she could tell by his body language that she'd surprised him.

"Don't you give up on me now," she demanded, raising her voice to be heard through the layers of material covering her face. She watched as his arms relaxed slightly and he pulled his shoulders back. It was almost as if he grew a couple of inches right before her eyes. He yanked a foot from the snow and took several, labored steps to reach her side.

"You're not getting rid of me, Mrs. Bartowski," he said and she knew he was smiling even though she couldn't see it. "I''m sorry I've been lagging behind."

"Don't even start with the apologizing again," she said, holding up a hand. "It's pretty tough going, but we're almost there." She showed him the GPS and he nodded.

He reached down and took her gloved hand in his and the contact was comforting even though she could barely tell it was a hand she was holding though the thick gloves. "Lead the way, Fair Lady."

She smiled at him, despite knowing he couldn't see it, and together they started forward, trudging again through the deep snow.

The cabin was barely visible, buried in snow as it was, but once Chuck laid eyes on it he thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen – aside from Sarah, of course. It looked weather beaten and worn, but sturdy and he picked up his pace a little as the thought of reaching shelter settled into his mind.

Though it looked like a regular cabin, perhaps used by hunters or some random recluse looking to get away from society, it was actually a safe house and it took them a few moments to locate the hidden control panel that would allow them inside. He didn't even feel the cold anymore, as he pulled off his glove and pressed his palm against the icy glass of the scanner.

"Let's just hope she remembered to put us in there," he said, looking down at his wife. She had started to shiver and he hoped they could get inside quickly because she needed to get warm.

"Verbanski wouldn't forget," she stuttered through chattering teeth.

He didn't need to respond to her statement of faith because the door did it for him, the sound of the lock disengaging loud in the hushed atmosphere. Chuck grabbed Sarah's hand, yanked open the door and pulled her inside. As he closed the door behind them he leaned against it as relief washed through him.

He scanned the interior quickly, pleasantly surprised at how nice it was inside. Everything had a thin layer of dust but the furniture looked comfortable and there was a full-fledged, though small, kitchen. To his left was a large stone fireplace. A chair, a cozy loveseat had been placed near it and a small table between them which held a kerosene lamp. Beyond that was the kitchen, with its large, antique looking wood cook stove and a small window that looked out over the snow covered landscape. To the right of the kitchen was a small dining nook and then, closer to where they stood, on the right, was a queen sized bed covered in plump pillows and a patchwork quilt.

"I was not expecting that," he muttered.

Sarah was already pulling off her gear. "There's wood, I'm gonna get a fire started. You go see what there is for food, we both need to eat."

She was all business and Chuck hurried to do her bidding. Soon there was a roaring fire and they were huddled near it, eating canned ravioli from simple, white plastic bowls.

Chuck watched the firelight dance over Sarah's face and for a moment he re-lived the last week in his mind. He reminded himself that she was safe now, they both were. It didn't stop the guilty recriminations from renewing themselves in his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he murmured, setting his mouth in a grim line.

She was in the middle of a bite of food, so she merely inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled sharply as she turned to glower at him. He resisted the urge to lean away from her.

"Now I'm just mad," she growled once she'd swallowed her food. "I swear if I hear you say that one more time I''m going to gag you."

"But Sarah, I am! This was such a bad idea. I never should've taken this mission."

Her eyes narrowed and she poked him in the chest with her fork, hard. "_We_ took this mission. _We_ decided together that it was a good idea. It was supposed to be quick, in and out. We, Chuck, not you, _we_. We're partners – in this business and in life, and I'm tired of you trying to take it all on yourself."

He did lean back now, his eyes growing wide. "Sarah, I didn't mean... You know I think of you as a partner..."

"Yes, Chuck," she sighed, looking at the fire. "When things go well you happily share the credit with me, sometimes even giving me more than my due, but when things go wrong, you try to take it all on yourself." When she turned back, her eyes were a little sad. "We're a team, you and me, good times and bad, remember?"

He sighed. "But we were supposed to be home three days ago and now..."

"It's Christmas Eve," she said softly. "I know. Doesn't change anything."

"You're right, of course you're right. You're always right."

"No, I'm not, but thank you" she said with a smirk. "Now, no more apologizing. I'm still cold and I bet that boiler is done heating water for the tub." She stood to her feet and held out a hand to him. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, smiling widely. He stood and followed her, waiting as she pulled several towels from a small nook near the bathroom door. "Do you think we will ever have a regular Christmas?""

She smiled and turned to him, her arms full of dark green towels. "Knowing us, probably not..." she chewed her lip and looked at the floor before returning her gaze to his. "But I really hope so."

It was almost pitch black when Sarah awoke. No city lights or street lamps to hold the darkness at bay, only the very faint, orange glow from the banked fire. She sighed as she sat up, and beside her Chuck mumbled and shifted in his sleep. Smiling in the darkness, she ran a soothing hand over his back.

She slipped out of bed and bit back a hiss as her bare feet hit the cold floor. Using her cell phone for additional light (it wasn't good for much else where they were) she made her way to the fireplace, stoking the embers and adding another small piece of wood. Once she was satisfied with the fire, she went to the kitchen and began silently searching the cupboards for some crackers. The package crinkled in her grasp and she darted her eyes over to her sleeping husband before finally relaxing, leaning her behind against the counter as she quietly nibbled her 'midnight' snack.

It was Christmas. The thought made her sad. Yes, they were safe and they were together and, in the end that, was all that really mattered. But she had wanted this Christmas to be special. She had put so much planning into it, spent so much time thinking over every detail. Now those details were back in Burbank and they were here, on a mountain, in a tiny little cabin, a long way from home.

Her eyes drifted to the form of her husband. In the light from the fire she could just make him out, curled up in the too small bed, with the blanket pulled up beneath his chin. She moved closer, kneeling down to press a kiss against his cheek. He shifted a little and she jutted out her lower lip as her heart melted a little more.

Chuck loved Christmas. He deserved Christmas. And he was going to get Christmas.

Green towels, arranged just so, made a rather pathetic but acceptable Christmas tree. Foil was the star and a few, randomly placed ornaments. All she had left was her gift.

She tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully, searching her mind for some way to still give him the gift she'd held so dear. The small thing she'd wrapped so carefully and placed under their tree back home. She pulled open several drawers until she found a pad of paper and several pens. One of them was fat and held multiple colors. She smiled as she held it up and an idea came to her.

She had a pile of wadded up pieces of paper next to her on the counter when she finally etched the last line. She looked down at her work of art and smirked. It was terrible. She was definitely not an artist but she was sure the picture she'd drawn would be recognized for what it was, and that was all she needed.

She placed the makeshift card beneath her makeshift tree and climbed back into bed with her husband, curling into his back for warmth and quickly falling back to sleep.

Chuck woke to the crystal white light of a winter's day pouring in through the cabin windows. The first thing he saw, when his vision cleared, was a pile of towels that looked oddly like a Christmas tree. When his sleepy mind finally realized that's exactly what it was supposed to be he smiled widely, taking in the silvery star and all the small foil balls that were balanced carefully on the 'branches.'

He could feel the warmth of Sarah behind him and rolled onto his back shifting so that her head came to rest in the crook of his shoulder. He pressed a kiss against her forehead and pulled her in tight. She sighed softly and her eyes drifted open, looking up at him sleepily before smiling.

"Merry Christmas, Sarah," he whispered. He couldn't dim the wattage on his smile. It was Christmas and he was here with Sarah, alone in this quiet place. It was like they were the only two people in the world. "I think Santa came last night and gave us a tree."

She laughed softly. "A crappy little tree made out of towels?"

"It's the best tree I've ever seen in my entire life."

"Right," she said, digging her fingers into his ribs and tickling him. He jerked away and grabbed her hands, holding them above her head as he rolled over and pinned her beneath him. He opened his mouth to insist but then she shifted against him and the atmosphere changed as his mind and body reminded him that they were both deliciously naked. She looked up at him with wide blue eyes, her gaze hot as it raked his face. "Don't you want to open your present?" she asked huskily.

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Don't need to," he said, letting his gaze drift over her naked form beneath his. "It's already all unwrapped.""

It was a little while later that they hunkered down in front of the sad little towel tree. With the quilt from the bed draped over his shoulders, Chuck pulled Sarah in to sit between his legs. She was warm and soft and smelled amazing. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his face into her hair.

She leaned forward and plucked her little homemade card from where she'd placed it. She handed it to him, turning in his lap so she could see his face.

The front of the card was decorated with hand drawn holly and ribbon and his name in Sarah's familiar handwriting. "You made this?" he asked, a little stunned by the strength of his emotion. "I can''t believe you did all this."

"I wanted to have Christmas," she murmured, cupping his cheek. "I wanted you to have Christmas." Her hand was warm, and he placed his over the top of it, turning to kiss her wrist.

"I should've done –" she stopped his burgeoning apology by pinching his lips together.

"Shut up and open it."

He mumbled something behind his pinched lips and she cocked an eyebrow at him before slowly releasing her hold. "Yes, dear," he reiterated now that he could be heard. It didn't assuage his guilt at all. He should've been the one to think of this. He sighed, pushing down the apology he wanted to say and flipped open the card, not knowing what to expect. He frowned as his eyes scanned the paper. It was a drawing of some kind. He looked at it very carefully but he couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be.

He could feel Sarah's eyes on him expectantly and his nerves kicked in. He could feel his body grow hot with embarrassment as he turned the paper several different directions in a desperate attempt to decipher what was there. "I'm um... this is great?"" He watched her face fall and his heart went with it, his shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry, Baby, I ... I can't tell what it is..." he finally admitted.

The look on her face made him feel even worse, before it slipped into a glare. She snatched the paper from his hand and climbed to her feet. He followed after her as quickly as he could, getting tangled in the quilt for a moment as she stomped off to the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, Sarah, I'm an idiot. Please, don't be mad!"

She didn't answer. Instead, she yanked out a drawer and withdrew a pen, smacking it down on the counter top. Then she leaned on her hand and sighed. "I'm not mad."

Chuck sidled up to her, looking uncertain. "Are you sure? Because, you look kind of mad."

"I'm mad at the situation, not you. It's not your fault I can't draw." A little smile turned up the corner of her lips and she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. "Now close your eyes."

He did as she asked, grinning as he did so. He listened to the sound of pen scratching on paper and then felt her turn. He opened his eyes when he felt her lift his hand and press the paper into his palm. He looked down at the card and lifted it. Looking at her for assurance, he opened it when he saw the sassy smile that lit up her face. His gaze returned to the paper, this time augmented by words in Sarah's functional but elegant script.

"This is a pregnancy test and it's positive. Congratulations, _Daddy_."

All the breath rushed from his lungs as he lifted wide eyes to her beaming face.

"Merry Christmas, Chuck."


	8. It's all About Bonding

Prompt 77 - Tile

Morgan/Alex

* * *

"It's broken," she said, her voice milky with tears. "I broke it." He froze at the entrance to the kitchen and watched, blue eyes wide, as she sniffed, cradling the small piece of tile in her palm as if it were the most precious of things. She sniffed and looked up at him. Her sea green eyes were red rimed, her cheeks were streaked with tears, and he swallowed in fear. He was not equipped for this.

Alex was sitting on the floor of the kitchen, her rounded belly exposed by the too small camisole she wore. Her bare legs jutted out on either side of her, ending in the colorful, fuzzy socks that adorned her feet. Taking a deep breath, Morgan dropped to his knees and crawled toward her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. She looked up at him mournfully, a single tear sliding down her cheek and he had to clear his throat before he could speak.

Looking down at the piece of Spanish tile in her hand, he said, "The corner broke off huh?"

"I dropped the pickle jar." Her voice wobbled in the most adorable and heart breaking way. His eyes darted about the room and quickly spotted the still intact jar of gherkins nearby on the floor. He turned back to her, taking in her trembling lower lip, her wide pleading eyes. Oh God, how could he fix this?

He reached down and picked up the small piece, turning it in his fingers. "I think we can fix this," he said. "A little glue, maybe? I think I can track down some liquid nails."

"Yeah?" she asked, wiping beneath her eyes.

"Yeah, sure, I bet Chuck has some left," he said smiling at her. "You know, after he glued himself to the floor that time."

Alex burst out laughing and he figured she could remember the image of Chuck — stuck to his new tile floor by his palm, trying to act as if nothing was wrong — as clearly as he did. He shifted and stood before helping her to her feet.

"I'm sorry, Morgan," she said, sighing as she wiped her face. "I don't know why I got so upset. I guess I looked pretty ridiculous."

"Not possible," he said. "You're way too beautiful to look ridiculous. That's what you have me for. I look ridiculous enough for the both of us."

She laughed and smacked his chest before pulling him in for a kiss. "Oh!" she said, just before their lips could touch, and she yanked back, her hand dropping to her belly. "Quick quick!" she said, grabbing his hands and putting them on her stomach.

"What? What?" he almost shouted. "We have movement? Where?" He shifted his hands over her rounded belly, trying to feel something besides the taut, smooth texture of her skin.

Even though the baby had been kicking and squirming for a while now, he had yet to feel it. Casey had felt it, and Chuck and Sarah. Even Skip Johnson had felt it! But the minute he, the baby's _father_, put his hands anywhere near, the kid would go stock still. He was starting to feel a little betrayed, though he hadn't said anything to Alex. He had a feeling she suspected though.

"Dang it, not again," she pouted. She put her hands on her belly and jiggled it around a bit. "C'mon baby, Daddy wants to feel you."

"It's okay, Allie. I guess I just have the magic touch. When he comes out, I'll be the go to guy to put him right to sleep."

Her pouting mouth turned up to a half smile. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too," he replied, giving her a big kiss. Then he bent down to her belly. "And I love you too." He pressed his lips to the taut skin and that's when he felt the first kick from his son.

He kicked him right in the mouth.


End file.
